. He is affable, caring in a different way and unlike me does not suffer at the slight let down or neglect. He is like Johnny , the idiot boy of Wordsworth’s ballad . He is adorable and a sensitive  being  like most of us. He was considered incapable of committing a crime till 2007 in the US law. He bleeds like me, breathes affinity as we do. Then why do we call some one an idiot despite his being one of of us? The malady is in our perception. A subsumed or confused soul could be me, you or any one of us at a point of time. In his case it is a bit longer. I remember the movie Taren Jameen Par and the look of the child actor Darsheel and the innocence and piety he exuded.Did any of us not adore the characterisation of Ishan? 

In the journey of our life we are idiots or you could name it  mild sentimental fools on many occasions. In love and search for honour a man or woman ought to be an idiot many days, many times, no matter how special he or she is.        

 Some memories never die. It haunts you, soothes you and occasionally ignites you for better or worse. As a young university pass out my first job was in a Government women's college as a lecturer. It was a salubrious feeling to be in an all women environment. Rose was then only red and blood red, and not pink, yellow or white as turned out to be later.

       A few male colleagues and a handful of administrative staff otherwise the campus was all red, pink and green, also violet.   My head of the department was a charming lady, very fair, a little plump, tall , elderly, oval faced and garrulous. She was a loving, caring woman and I was assured of a homemade lunch courtesy Anasuya Madam. She drove so well and fast that some men were in awe of her. Her husband was a Professor, ENT in the local medical college Hospital. He was also a playwright. For some days I thought the lady was merely a good woman, albeit a little gaudy and nothing extraordinary.

     It was a dull afternoon and hot and humid outside. I was with her alone in the staff room and I had a tutorial class late afternoon. In the morning she presented me a light read  novel, of which I had heard, but it was then out of print, The Thorn Birds. Our favourite authors and poets were almos the  same and we had always something to share.   

    That afternoon to drive away the urge to have a pleasurable siesta ,we  were  engrossed in sketchy discussions on things and nothing and  I asked her about Babu, her only child, then around 15-16 years old. Each fortnight madam used to take leave for a day to attend him.. He was suffering from Thalasamea Major. He had blood transfusions once each fortnight. Madam was silent; the woman who rarely smiled and always laughed was in tears. She said people thought him imbecile; idiot and the couple carried this stigma day and night.

    That was my first encounter in a serious note with the word. I had read Dostoyevsky and his novel did not hold  me long  for its volume and penchant for details and the lack of originality in the translation.. But an idiot as a son! I was flabbergasted, the woman had so much pains and she conducted herself so elegantly. I have seen women who break at the slightest hurt. In their imagination and feelings they crave pain passionately; it is equally true of many men.

      How a genetic disability or problem could be termed idiosyncrasy? A person unable to reason ordinarily is an idiot, as has been told to us. Mental retardation or for that matter incapacitation to comprehend normally is the sign of idiocy. The boy here was no idiot in conventional sense, he was not agile as his friends were, and he used thick glasses, looked lusterless yet  felt about things better than many normal boys. i was in the profession for about three years and was with her for a couple of summer.  after that i did not hear  about them,  recently I heard he is a grown up man and successful in life. 

. Nnow he is a teacher in a university and considered brilliant. I could not know about his parents for I am out of touch with my old circles. They had then courage and patience. They did not lose heart; the boy was taken to London for spleenectomy. I don't know much about his present health, but he was a genius or he could not have reached here despite the problem.

  An idiot could be lovable and close to heart. I have seen as all of you must have ,mothers are fonder of the child who is least responsive, lovers cling more when the other one is more dependant on them and a little careless. Were they idiots, for a moment think they are, then idiots are closer to heart than snubs and intelligent. A defiant child is less adored than a docile yet differently able; I don't like to stymie physical disability with mental stupor or dullness as different. They have something in common. Then a deaf and dumb or for that matter a blind one has a little idiocy in him,as we narrow our vision in segmenting people and their abilities.